without you
by urbanmanatee
Summary: Hancock and the Sole Survivor have a connection, but it takes some time to act on it. ***END OF GAME SPOILERS***
1. Chapter 1

**SPOILER ALERT**

 **I'm totally in love with Hancock and how amazing he is, so this formed. Hope you enjoy!**

 **-UM**

I've teleported into the Institute many times in the past three months. It never gets easier. I've gotten used to the way it throws off your equilibrium, making you dizzy enough to vomit, I've taken enough chems that it never takes me long to recover, of course it helps that Hancock's rough hands are always there to steady me. No, it's not the sensation that makes going to the Institute difficult, it's my son. Shaun, my sixty year old baby boy that I was searching for for almost a year and a half. But I did what I set out to do, I avenged Nate's death by killing Kellogg, and I found my son, even though my mind feels like it's going to explode when I think about it all.

It's not even his age that makes it hard for me to look at him, at six or sixty, he's still my son. It's not that I see what Nate would have looked like if he had the chance to grow old. No, it's the look in his eyes. The eyes of a monster. The man that enslaved the beings that he helped create, is my son. The sick part is that they call him "Father". He doesn't deserve that title. Just like I don't deserve the title of "Mother". Not when I knew that the last time I teleported into the Institute would mean the death of my son.

Teleporting out was always easier, I had friends, something I had few of 200+ years ago. They were there for me like no one ever was before the war, they did more for me than Nate ever did, and I did more for them then I would ever do for Nate. Every time I left the Institute I pushed the penetrating gaze of the eyes of a mad man out of my mind, and when the dizziness subsided, with Hancock gripping my shoulders, I would open my eyes and look into his. Nothing mattered in those moments, only his steady gaze, and the promise it held, the promise that everything would work out.

This time was no different. We rushed into the relay and thanks to the only slightly insane, genius, Tinker Tom, we were teleported to the roof of a rundown building. I smelled his cigarettes first, I heard the scrapping of an old pre-war lawn chair on the concrete, and finally felt his hands resting on my shoulders, steadying me, keeping me sane, making sure that I didn't fall apart on this broken down roof top. It didn't matter that the whole Railroad was surrounding us, all booming laughter laced with adrenaline. What mattered was the look in his eyes when I finally opened mine, the promise I would always find there and when he moved his hands to my face wiping away an escaped tear, cigarette still dangling from his mouth, I knew that everything would work out in the end.

Desdemona was the first to break away from the Railroad's inner circle, but like little ducklings they all followed suit. I remained where I was eyes locked with Hancock's, my face still in his hands, the cigarette burning itself out due to its users lack of enthusiasm, waiting for her to press the damned button, confirming the death of my son. Desdemona calling out to me startled me enough to break eye contact, and just as soon as it started the moment was gone, Hancock's hands now reaching for his lighter, the cigarette now remembered.

"Fixer." She Started. I knew what she was going to say and I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear about my accomplishments for the Railroad because every one of those accomplishments was a nail in Shaun's coffin, and I felt every nail hammered into my soul

"Without you this wouldn't be possible, through your efforts we have not only saved synths from the Institute, we have saved the entire Commonwealth." The Railroad were cheering now, with a "right on!" yelled out by Deacon. Desdemona, feeling empowered now didn't stop there.

"No more will they kidnap children from their beds, no more will they replace our friends with their lackeys, we are free from their influence. Now and forever."

 _Please Desdemona shut your whore mouth, please, please make this end._ I internally pleaded with her. Sensing my discomfort Hancock placed his hand in mine, squeezing softly, lending me his strength but I knew that if she continued not even the vice grip I kept his hand in would keep me from screaming.

"Fixer, you _deserve_ the honor." She had her fake smile plastered to her face, and a hand held out to me, holding the detonator. The ways I could kill her. And would have if Hancock didn't stop me, I was already gripping the combat knife when he grabbed my wrist, stopping me from pulling the blade out of the hidden sheath at his side. His thumb was pressing against my pulse, we were so close I could feel his breath on my face, for the second time today nothing mattered, not the shocked looks of the Railroad, not the irradiated raindrops that started to splatter my face, not the detonator still suspended between us and Desdemona. No the only thing that mattered were the eyes I was looking into, there are no whites to his eyes anymore, only a dusty grey. At first glance you would think that a ghoul's irises were somehow non-existent, that their entire eye was the same dull grey, but being this close, you see the remains of what was. His eyes may have been blue once upon a time, a deep dark blue, a blue that settles into your soul. With a glance to the knife between us and a quick glance to the detonator in the Railroad leader's hand, he raised an eyebrow, or what would have been an eyebrow if the radiation hadn't caused him to lose all of the hair on his body, and squeezed my hand, that's all it took to understand his question _. "Which one?"_ his eyes asked me. _"I'm with you."_ His grip told me.

Taking a deep breath I released my grip on his knife and nodded, I couldn't risk looking at Desdemona, I couldn't stand to see the smug look on her face, instead I tucked myself into the crook of Hancock's neck and released the tears I had been holding back. One arm held me close, while the other reached out and grabbed the detonator from her outstretched hand.

"With all due respect Desdemona, Fuck you," Hancock all but growled at her.

And then he pressed the button.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

 **Oh the angst. The good times are coming. I promise.**

 **-UM**

Sole is a strong woman. Too strong if you ask me, she's been through some messed up stuff, she watched her husband get shot in the head and her baby stolen, powerless to stop it. If this would've happened to most people the 10mm pistol found down there would've been pressed against their temple, only one shot necessary. Many can't find the strength to move on from something like that, but she not only found the strength for her, she found it for everyone else too. She found it for Codsworth, helping him search the neighborhood looking for the rest of her half dead family. She found it for Dogmeat, giving him a home when it would've been easier to let the wasteland have him. She found it for Cait as she sat in the chair that would change her. She found the strength for every one of her new friends, giving them the courage to look into a mirror when the last thing they wanted to see was their reflection. Hell she even helped me bring back the minutemen, building it from the ground up, when I couldn't hold the hammer. We all owe her more than there are words to express it, and we all took it for granted. To all of us she was a bottomless pit of warmth, friendship, kindness, and most of all strength. The only one that didn't really need her was Hancock, most people here in Sanctuary hated him. He was the self-righteous, self-appointed, chem-addict mayor from the "Good town" of Goodneighbor. We all knew that Sole took chems occasionally, nobody liked it, but nobody tried to stop it. I guess we all figured that with her problems, a hit of Jet or Med-X wasn't all that bad. It wasn't until Hancock came around did we realize how much chems she consumed, we thought it was his bad influence, apparently she just hid it from us that well. Oh yeah we all hated him, hated him for the real smiles she'd throw his way, the way that when we were all huddled around the fire for dinner she always sat closest to him. We hated how she took him with her everywhere, and that in the first two weeks of knowing him she told him everything, her past was an open book to him, but we only had a few chapters. Most of all we hated that he didn't need her, but she sure needed him. And right now, less than two weeks after the Institute went up in smoke, we all hate that he is the only one that can get her to consume anything other than the Med-X that dulls her pain. Only a few of us were huddled around our cooking spit eating our meal in relative silence. We found ourselves glancing at the door to the old half standing house that was hers before the war, hoping that she'd walk out of it with a smile on her face like she'd done so many times before. Although we couldn't make out any words, we could hear Hancock's raspy voice, probably trying to coax her into being human again.

His deep growl pierced the otherwise quiet night causing us to jump, our hands reaching for our respective weapons.

"Dammit Sole! Look at me! Not with those dead eyes! Really _look_ at me," his outburst turned into plea, "I cannot watch you wither away!"

She must have told him to fuck off because what came next was nothing I ever thought to hear coming out of his mouth, well not directed towards Sole anyway.

"Fuck me?! Really? Well fuck you Sole! Fuck you for being the only friend I have! Fuck you for wanting to die after all the good you've done. Fuck you for staring at that crib and that fucking silver wedding band! Fuck you for making me love you and then making me watch as you slowly kill yourself! Is that what you want? Do you want to join them? I'll carry you right now to that fucking hole in the ground, is that what I need to do? Put you right back in that fucking tube, because if that's what you want maybe It should have been you that got shot in the head, and not your fucking _husband."_

We all sat stunned, Deacon's mouth was hanging open, Cait put her knees to her chest, holding herself tight, and I just stared at the door, mentally preparing myself for what was coming next. None of us realizing at the time that Hancock let a confession slip out with his anger.

Her voice was the second one that night to pierce the silence, and like Hancock's it was deep, raspy, and fueled by rage.

"Get the Fuck out!" she screeched at him, her voice cracking from disuse. "I hate you, I fucking _hate_ you John Hancock! Get out of my fucking house!"

And the door that we hoped would open did and it wasn't Sole that came out all smiles and laughter, it was Hancock. Standing on the faded welcome mat outside her house he lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before he talked to her one last time through the door, raising his voice slightly so he knew she heard,

"Hate me all you want Sunshine, as long as it keeps you from hating yourself."

It was at that moment that I knew John Hancock just saved her life. I saw what he's been doing for her all these months, he kept her going, he was her rock, her anchor in this screwed up wasteland, he gave up his own strength to keep her from falling apart, leaving none for his self. She needed him because she needed his strength, her own strength depleted by the rest of us. So when he looked over to us, telling us he'd be in Goodneighbor if we needed him, I saw the real John Hancock for the first time, not the charismatic junkie mayor from a town barely on the map, I saw what he really was, a broken man ready to do anything to keep the women he loved from drowning, even if it meant drowning himself.

 **BTW**

 **This was Preston's view if you didn't guess. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it's been awhile, I'm a retail manager and these past few months have been really rough for me.**

 **I just realized I haven't put any little disclaimers either sooo: I Don't own Fallout or Bethesda or anything that awesome really. No money made from this either, it's purely for fun.**

 **-UM**

John Hancock was a decent guy, he'd never admit it, or even listen to you say he was, but facts are facts. And facts say John Hancock is a decent guy. As a detective it's my job to see the big picture, sometimes it's easy to see, different situations, but the answer is the same. If all cases were like that anyone could be a detective. It's my job to take all the little things and make sense of them. So a guy turns out a City full of Ghouls: he's a bad guy, right? What if I said this guy was backed by a bunch of scared ignorant people? And these people were scared because of a very recent breach in security where ferals got in and killed some of their families, some of their neighbors, some of their children. Is he still a bad guy? Or is he protecting his loved ones? You could almost feel sorry for the City, understand why they sent the Ghouls packing, until you find out that instead of sending them packing, they were killed. Back to bad again, right? Most of the time people do what you expect, bad people do bad things, good people do good things, and sometimes good people do bad things to survive. But one thing you never see is a bad person doing something genuinely good. You wouldn't see a bad person helping a kid home, you'll see him slapping on a slave collar and selling to the highest bidder.

But Hancock, no one really knows what to think of him. He toes the line between good and bad, with a smirk on his ghoulified face. Its like he knows that you're trying to draw some form of conclusion as to what type of man he is and then he purposfully does the opposite to make you question your conclusions. One minute he's stabbing a guy in the middle of the street, the next he's digging a bullet out of Sole with such care that I really doubt anyone in the Commonwealth could have done a better job. Everything he does is natural, it's not forced and he doesn't think twice about it, he does what good he can while riding out whatever chem he decides to take.

But when he screams at her, every good thing I've ever thought about him doesn't seem to matter. Sole is women out of time, one who saved me and befriended me, regardless of the horror stories she heard about synths. She is a good person, the type of women that you don't look for ulterior motives with, one that will always help while you're hurting. She doesn't deserve the venom laced words he spit at her. When he walks over to me with his shotgun at his waist and a traveling bag slung over his shoulder, I knew he was running again, but this time I wasn't going to make it easy on him.

In one swift movement I had him pinned against the wall by his throat, slowly squeezing, his hat fell to the ground, "That was harsh, Hancock, even for scum like you."

"I kn-know, she-she needed it, Nicky." He was gasping for the air I wasn't allowing him, clawing at my hands, like that would do him good, and I was enjoying it. I probably wouldn't have stopped if it weren't for the kid.

"Mr. Valentine?" a scared little voice said, "Mr. Hancock dropped his hat."

And like that Hancock was back on his feet, taking large gulps of air.

"Sorry, John, got carried away."

"Heh-no worries Nicky. Kinda deserve it." He smiled his crooked smirk and I knew I was forgiven.

"Mr. Hancock? I have your hat." Shaun said, handing his dusty, frayed tri-corner hat up to him. Deacon told me what he said when The Railroad was rushing out of the institute, synth-Shaun was there waiting for his Mother, he didn't want to die. Poor kid, he was tired, scared and worried for his "sick" mommy. Sole wouldn't even look at him after the bomb went off, too painfully probably. It was Hancock that started to look after the boy, Desdemona _tried_ to take Shaun with her, from what I hear she found herself on the bad end of Hancock's shotgun with that suggestion. Funny how a drugged up ghoul with no qualms about killing became the idol of a ten year old little boy.

"Thanks, kiddo." He stared a long time at the hat in his hands, and with a sigh he plopped it onto Shaun's Head.

"Tell you what, keep this hat safe for me, and when your mom feels better, tell her you gotta come see me in Goodneighbor." The boy beamed at him, nodding enthusiastically.

He only took a few steps before he looked over his shoulder at me.

"Oh, and Nicky? Keep the boy close. I don't trust these people more than I can throw 'em."

A slight dip of my head was all he got in response. But thats all he needed. And with one last smirk to me, and a wave to Shaun, he was gone.

Sad brown eyes looked up at me and I couldn't help but to send a reassuring smile his way, "Ya know, when you do see Hancock again, don't give him back that hat. Looks better on you kiddo."

"You-you really think so?", Shaun asked me, eyes now hopefull.

"Yeah, I really do. Now lets go see about getting you some food."

The answering smile was brilliant.

I've know John Hancock a long time, and the funny thing about John is he'll look you in the eyes as he stabs you, it may be with his combat knife, or it may be with a stimpak, but either way, facts are facts. And Facts say John Hancock is a decent guy.

 **This Chapter was so difficult for me to write, I don't run around with Nick too often so I didn't feel like I got him right. Plus when writing the 1st chapter I totally forgot to write little Shaun in on the rooftop scene. But I hope you enjoyed!**


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